


Happenstance

by Devilc



Category: DCU
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-06
Updated: 2010-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seriously, he wasn't looking to get lucky at all. He intentionally picked a straight meat-market kind of place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happenstance

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny portion of the Owen/Bart ideas that are eating my brain. Set OYL, but before _Flash_ #1
> 
> (Okay, and yes, this story is technically incest, but they don't know they're half brothers.)

Nightwing would kick  no, Nightwing _will_ kick his ass when he finds out, and he _will_ find out  but right now, Owen didn't care.

Besides, it's not like he was a complete idiot and planned to go up and ring Mom Mercer's doorbell or something like that. Between the Rogues and the Outsiders Owen knew quite a bit about how to conduct one's daily business and not be noticed, much less get captured. Besides, he had a good fake ID.

It's just that Sukie or Susan Kaitlin, now that she was a grown up 18  was marrying the guy she had dated since her sophomore year, and Owen wanted to see his "little sister" get married. Even if the only way to do it meant sitting on the rooftop of a building across the street with a parabolic mike and some mega powerful binoculars.

And if Nightwing couldn't understand wanting to watch a family (and it's not just blood that makes a family) member get married? Well, fuck him. The guy was just as shitty as Cold sometimes. Only, Owen had seen Cold act like a human being once or twice. The same couldn't be said for Nightwing.

~~oo(0)oo~~

Afterwards, instead of hopping in his rental car and making the drive back to NYC, Owen decided to hang out and blow off a little steam. It's not like he was going to be any less "grounded" when he got back to the Outsiders because he hustled right back after breaking the rules. So, why show up a whole 12 to 18 hours early for it, right?

He was careful about this, too. He found a room at a mom and pop motel on the outskirts of the twin cities. He picked a "meat market" bar in Central City, not the kind of blue collar place Owen Mercer had gone to back in Keystone. He'd have a few drinks, dance, and, well, just not be a living dead man for a few hours.

Seriously, he wasn't looking to get lucky at all. He intentionally picked a _straight_ meat market kind of place. He'd maybe have enough to get him a little tipsy, find a girl to dance with, shake his ass and have fun, and they'd go their separate ways at the end of the night.

But ... when it just sort of happens anyway?

Owen ended up bumping into these two guys in line, and one of them was so crushing on his blond, kind of assholish roommate, who wandered off and basically spent the night clothes-fucking this chick on the dance floor as soon as they got through the door, and Bart, the other guy, (who really wasn't the kind that Owen usually went for  he preferred "rough around the edges") ended up drinking himself legless and babbled on a bit about how this never used to be possible for him because he could metabolize just about anything but now he was a flyweight. Perhaps it was something about Bart's goofy grin, or his weird cat-yellow eyes, but Owen found himself just really clicking with the guy.

Shit, if they were at any other kind of club, Owen would have dragged Bart on the dance floor, because ... well, _because_.

But that, to put it mildly, would have caused a scene here, and ending up in jail for kicking frat-boy ass? Really _not_ subtle and low-key.

When last call came, Bart's asshole roommate vanished with the flavor of the day, and of course _he_ had the car, and no freaking way could Bart navigate public transit back to his place. Besides, if Central was anything like Keystone, only the major bus routes ran at this time of night. So Owen poured Bart's looped ass into his rented subcompact, and got Bart back to his apartment and upstairs and in the front room. The two of them ended on the (rather beat up) couch, talking about hockey, just hanging out, because Owen needed to be subtle and good, and didn't feel like taking advantage of a drunk guy who was mooning over his roommate. But, Owen was looking for a way to bring up the topic of crashing on the couch, because the motel he checked himself into was about 45 minutes away, back on the other side of Keystone. And crashing a rental car because you fell asleep at the wheel? Also not subtle and low-key.

And that's when Bart, who had sobered up a tad, but strangely had been getting sad and kind of edgy by the minute, said that he's tired of being alone and unloved, and Owen was about to open his mouth and say something along the lines of "yeah, I know how you feel" but it's full of Bart's tongue at that point, and Owen might prefer rough around the edges, but it's not like that boyish face and floppy mop and those strange eyes didn't have their appeal.

Considering that the only "rough around the edges" where he's living is Grace, and, as _amazing_ as she is, that's just not going to happen, it's been awhile since Owen's had a hot date with anything but his hand. It only took a moment for his jeans to go from "snug but comfortable" to "too fucking tight".

Almost without thinking, the two of them went fumbling down the hall into a room that smelled slightly industrial (Bart said something about working at the auto plant) and slightly like dryer sheets (basket of clean laundry in the corner), and Owen sent his and Bart's shirts flying to land somewhere and he got down to business, kissing, nipping and licking his way down smooth, sleek boy chest while Bart's gave little hitching gasps and groaned an "Oh, Owen", that went straight to Owen's dick as Owen unbuckled and unziped him.

Bart wasn't so drunk that he had whiskey dick, just the opposite in a way. Drunk enough that he had _zero_ inhibitions. They couldn't fuck  no condoms  but they did just about everything else that guys could do with hands and mouths and they got each other off twice. (Bart could do _amazing_ things with his tongue.) And Owen had a moment of feeling really goofily glad that Bart's bed was a twin, because he liked the way Bart's body feels, all tangled up with his, before sleep hit him like a hammer.

Come morning, as the miles of interstate reeled out before him, Owen couldn't decide what he liked more: the shocked look on asshole roommate's face when he barged in to Bart's room all set to crow about his conquest, or that _he's_ got Bart's email and phone number.

Yeah, given his life right now, Owen's not relationship material, and he flat out told Bart he couldn't make any promises, and he was going to have to be inventive to get some private computer time and he'll definitely have to hit a payphone if he wants to call Bart.

But ... it just felt good to have the possibility of talking to somebody who wasn't in the Outsiders, or even part of the life.

And, it was even better to have the possibility of giving such a hottie another hickey.


End file.
